


Most Wonderful Time of the Year, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Children, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Holidays, Humor, M/M, Post Bartlett Administration, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-26
Updated: 2009-10-26
Packaged: 2019-05-15 22:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: It's Christmas





	Most Wonderful Time of the Year, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers through end of series; possible spoilers for "Holding Hands on the Way Down"  
Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul  
Feedback and criticism always welcomed  


* * *

**December 8, 2017; early afternoon; I-80, east of Vacaville, CA**

Paul moved to open the door for CJ as she reached the exit of the fast-food place. However, the door was opened by a guy coming into the place and the man cast an admiring glance at CJ’s retreating form as she thanked him and walked toward the Mustang. Paul caught the admiring glance of the man seated near the door as that guy also watched CJ walk away. Then, realizing that Paul and CJ were together, the man nodded to Paul, who in turn acknowledged the nod with one of his own. The look sent to Paul said, I mean no disrespect. The look said, she’s a beautiful woman. The look said, you’re a very lucky man to have her in your life and I respect that she is yours, to the extent that one human can belong to another. It was a look that, over the years, Paul had received from many other men – and from several women. As a heterosexual male, it was a look that Paul had, over the years, given to many other men – and to several women.

Paul caught up with his wife as they reached the car, opened the driver’s side door for her, and closed it. Once he was seated beside her and belted in place, Paul took the coffee cup from her hand.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want something?”

“And have to stop again before we get to the hotel?” CJ laughed and she made her way out of the parking lot and headed back to the interstate.

“And if we had to, so what?” Paul answered.

In the past month or so, CJ had begun to need more frequent trips to the bathroom and was a bit embarrassed about it. Paul had been gently urging her to see Dr. Daglikova, but CJ kept putting off getting the appointment. Paul had already decided that after Christmas, he would, if necessary, go into “listen to your husband” mode; for the moment, he wanted to make sure that she didn’t fret herself on the issue. “We’re going to get to Sacramento in plenty of time,” he reassured her.

CJ glanced to her right and smiled at Paul. She took her right hand from the wheel, laid it on his thigh, and lightly squeezed.

“Time alone with you in a hotel room? Not nearly enough; there’s never enough, Paul.”

As Paul smiled at CJ, he realized that her slacks and sweater were the same color (or same enough for a male of the species to process) as the outfit she wore that first time she spent the night with him. The pleasant memories had the obvious effect; the stirring in his groin was imperceptible, but it felt damned good. Paul glanced around; there was no one else on either side of them. He shifted her hand to the zipper of his khakis, pressed it against him for two seconds, then lifted it to his lips. Finally, he moved CJ’s hand back to the steering wheel.

Something flew in CJ’s open window and Paul turned around to follow the motion. A scrap of paper floated in the air and then settled on the garment bag holding his tuxedo and CJ’s gown.

CJ’s gown. Another situation where, at times, a husband just needed to assert himself, to take control.

Last May, at the Hollis Foundation gala in the city, Paul was in one of the stalls in the men’s room, he heard the voices of Sam Seaborn and Josh Lyman as they entered the room.

“I’m sure they’re okay, Josh. Neither she nor Paul are bringing in the really big bucks, of course, but still. Why do you ask?”

“Well, this is maybe the fourth or fifth time we’ve had a formal event, and every time CJ’s worn something old. I checked with Donna to be sure because you know how we guys can be about things like that,” Josh explained. “It’s the one she wore when we lost the five votes on the banking bill and we had to get Hoynes to lasso Tillinghast back in 1999.”

“But she wore old things before. Remember the first ball I had? She wore that high necked grey dress from that Indonesian state dinner,” came the reply.

“Yes, but that was because Danny really liked that dress. I think it was right around that time that he first became attracted to her. Most of the other times, she had new things. I know because I had ragged Donna about it that first ball, and she made sure I knew that CJ had new things in 2010 and 2011,” Josh said.

“Last year, at the Hollis Christmas party, she was wearing something new, I think. Of course, that was a short dress, and, come to think of it, I think she said she bought it used at a benefit for a domestic violence center in Berkeley,” Sam added.

“Like I said, Sam, she hasn’t had a new gown since Danny died and she remarried.”

“Well, let’s not read too much into it,” Sam answered.

Then there was silence, punctuated by the flushing of urinals and the running of water, as the two men took care of the needs that had brought them to the men’s room in the first place.

Paul spent a bit more time than he usually did washing his hands. He needed to think.

The first time CJ and he had attended one of Sam’s Christmas galas was in 2013, barely a month after their wedding. CJ wore a stunning red halter dress. Okay, perhaps the bottom of the “V” was about an inch, and inch and a half too low for Paul’s comfort, but the top was tight fitting with no danger of anyone seeing the tawny rosy nipples that were reserved for his sight alone. He was extremely proud of, extremely in love with, his sexy wife. At the time, it didn’t bother him when Josh mentioned how Barry Goodwin really admired the dress when CJ wore it to Ellie Bartlet Faison’s wedding. After all, with all the things involved in getting settled into a happy wedded life, when would CJ have had time to shop for a new gown?

They skipped the next ball, of course, because CJ was in her last month carrying Dansha, but in 2015, they went back to Sacramento and that time, CJ wore a clingy but not too revealing purple dress. There was a thin little strap on her right shoulder and there were matching sequins sewn in swirls going from various points under her right arm, meeting at the waist on the left side. Jed and Abbey had come out for that ball (the last time Paul would see Abbey Bartlet alive) and the former first couple talked about the dinner for Nobel laureates, the night that Cliff Calley and Matt Santos suckered Haffley.

“Dr. Takahashi was definitely bowled over by you, CJ, and no wonder, that purple color looks good on you. The only reason he paid attention to me was to goad Jed,” Abbey laughed.

Then came Deborah’s wedding later in the month; CJ wore her “updated Armani”.

Last year, for Sam’s party, she wore the same deep blue dress she had worn for her own Nobel ceremony, the same one she wore to the Canadian conference a month earlier. At least the white topaz jewelry had been ready in time for the ball; she wouldn’t have to wear jewelry Danny had bought in addition to a dress Danny had bought.

Paul had learned, over the years, mainly through other men’s experience, never to ask if an ensemble was new. If it was, asking might imply that he thought money was being spent frivolously. If the clothing was old, one was accused of not paying any attention. So, as he had done in the past with Alicia, when CJ appeared, dressed for a formal event, he merely smiled and told CJ that she looked beautiful, that he would be the recipient of envy on the part of every other man at the affair. It was easy; it wouldn’t get him into trouble.

And it was the truth, plain and simple. CJ always looked stunning. The gowns were attractive and sexy but very tasteful. He had even gotten used to the idea of the ones with V necklines coming down to the bottom of her cleavage; after all, they never revealed too much. Some of the cleavage you saw the Hollywood women wearing at awards shows came down to their waistlines. And he had never entertained any thought about how much money she might have spent. Like the wife in Proverbs, he trusted her with their fortune.

However, this was a new slant on the issue. His pride as a man, as a husband and provider, was involved. It would be one thing if the women had noticed, had said something. But Josh Lyman was a guy.

And Josh Lyman was Danny’s friend. No way in hell was Paul going to let the people who were close to CJ and Danny as a couple think that he was stingy with his wife, or, worse, not able to clothe her in the manner to which she might have been accustomed.

Resolving to do something about the matter for the next formal party, Paul put any feelings of hurt male pride aside and went to join his beautiful wife in her sexy (though, apparently at least eighteen year-old) dress.

At the Hollis board meeting two months ago, Paul overheard CJ and Nancy discussing this year’s upcoming ball in the old Governor’s Mansion.

“I don’t know, probably the white one with the silver threading that I wore to the event the night of the Kennison State bombing. I haven’t worn that for a while and it’s Christmas-y. Or the red one with the spaghetti straps I wore for the second inauguration, or the black halter top one I wore the night I was locked down with Donna in my office.”

“I thought your black one had spaghetti straps?”

“That was the one I was wearing in New York, when Simon Donovan was killed,” CJ said quietly. “I gave that to Hogan. No way I was ever going to wear that dress again.

“Anyway, I suppose I could wear that burgundy thing with the gold shoulder drape I would have worn to Ford’s Theatre the night that Owen Lassiter died, but I’d look like I was a present from Macy’s gift-wrap department.”

On the way home to Kensington, Paul mentioned to CJ that he had overheard the conversation and told her to buy herself something new.

“Paul, you’re sweet,” CJ said, reaching over to kiss his cheek, “but I don’t need a new dress; I have things I can still fit into that I haven’t worn in years. We have other things, more important things, to buy. And that addition is not going to come cheap.”

With Deborah married to Tom and a grandchild on the way, and with Derrick hopefully moving toward a wedding in the next year or so, Paul and CJ had come to the conclusion, in early September, that they needed at least one, if not two, more bedrooms. So for two weeks, they looked at what was available on the housing market, but nothing said “Buy me”. Then they looked at house plans. Some were nice, but it was impossible to find a lot close enough to Berkeley.

So CJ showed him some scribblings. She had sketched a rough floor plan of their house, with an addition behind the kitchen, with a hallway off the family room. There were two bedrooms with a Jack and Jill bath between them. It would take out the window on the back kitchen wall (“but the one right behind the garage would still be there”, she reassured him) and some of the back yard, but there would still be a place for the kids to play and for Jasmine to run, pee, and poop in fenced-in safety, still be a place for a couple tomato plants. The deck would not be touched.

“What do you think?” CJ asked him, somewhat shyly.

“Hmmm,” Paul said, stretching for time. Did they really want to subject themselves to the stress of in-house construction? Had she really thought it out completely?

“ _Of course she has, you idiot!” Danny exclaimed. “Look what she did for us in Santa Monica! Lish, tell your husband to trust her.”_

_Alicia stroked Danny’s arm._

“ _Calm down; he’ll figure it out for himself. Paul isn’t blind, or dumb. He just needs a minute. And he’s CJ’s husband, not mine.”_

Actually, Paul realized, it was the best solution. He was really happy with their house. The two views, front and back, were spectacular. They were far away enough from the university to not be bothered by carousing students but close enough to get to work quickly. He was settled in his study; the master bedroom and bath were very nice retreat for a loving couple with children. He liked having the formal living and dining rooms in addition to the much more casual, more lived-in family room. And the construction really wouldn’t impact their lives too much inside the house. It would affect their use of the back deck and pool area, but if it could get roughed in, at least, by summer – .

Once Paul said yes, CJ went into high gear. An architect and a contractor were hired. Right now, those professionals were working on all the permits, hoping to start in mid-February.

The two of them compromised on paying for the addition. Half would come from CJ’s trust fund, half from a home-equity loan. Of course, it was not without a long “serious discussion”. CJ argued long and hard for taking all the money from the trust (“Even with the tax deduction, we’ll pay more in interest than we’d lose from the trust. Can’t we at least take all the money out and then repay it ourselves rather than paying the bank?”), but Paul prevailed.

So now, when CJ said that the loan was one reason for not getting a new gown for the ball, Paul’s male ego was again threatened and he decided to assert himself.

Of course, as he had counseled many, many husbands and husbands-to-be over the years, asserting oneself did not mean riding roughshod over the situation. Indeed, overt forcefulness was, in most cases, a sign of failure.

Paul placed a call to Santa Monica, to Hank.

“Something sexy but modest. Something that will do her justice. Something different, but in keeping with the kind of thing she likes. You’re the professional; I trust you.”

Hank, of course, came through with the perfect dress and on their fourth anniversary early last month, Paul handed CJ the big box.

“I know it’s a little unusual for an anniversary present, but I wanted you to have something new.”

Later that evening, when they were alone, Paul would tell CJ of the conversation he overheard and his thought processes. He would admit that his ego was as much in play as his desire to give her something new. CJ would kiss him, run her hand from his brow, down his cheek to his chest, and tell him that she loved him, loved the dress, but wanted him to know that she never felt deprived wearing the gowns she had bought when she was very much in the public eye. (“I know that I would have done the same had Danny not died and I stayed home with the kids while they were little. It’s not the money; it’s because what is important in my life is so different, a totally different universe”, she would say, punctuating each phrase with a light kiss.)

“It’s gorgeous. You’re much too good to me, and I love you for it.”

The dress was strapless, with a fitted bodice and a skirt that clung to her hips before flaring out slightly to allow for plenty of movement, both walking and dancing, without need for a slit or a pleat. (“I’m inviting myself, Steve, Pammy, and Danny up for Thanksgiving,” Hank told Paul. “I’ll need to make the final adjustments to the fit. It has some light boning and built-in bust support, but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable for her.”) The fabric was a heavy tightly woven one, shiny like silk, with a kind of vague paisley print in shades of yellow-gold. Hank referred to it as “citrine, topaz, butterscotch, and amber.” The top was designed to accentuate her bustline but it came straight across under her arms. Ideally, only a modest amount of swell would be uncovered.

“What about jewelry?” Paul asked when Hank sent him sketches and a picture of the fabric. “I know she has the earrings Danny gave her for Caitlin but I don’t think she has anything else that would go. Her birthday will be later in the month. Could you find her a necklace and bracelet to match them?”

Hank explained that imperial topaz was rare and rather expensive.

“Given the time constraints, I think I’d best look for citrines that are close in color,” the studio designer said.

“I’m just afraid that people will know that I got her something cheaper than what Danny got her.”

“Paul, given the way that QVC and the other mass marketers have flooded the market, when most people hear ‘topaz’, they thing ‘blue’. They’ll think that the earrings are citrines. Don’t worry about it.”

And, of course, Hank came through again with the jewelry. The necklace and bracelet, in themselves, were simple – thin tennis lines similar to the white topaz set Paul had given her last year. However, Hank had come up with something to make the jewelry unique – a pendant (“actually, it’s called an enhancer, the clasp lets it fit on a necklace without having to go over the fastening hardware”) in the shape of a Maltese cross, covered with very small stones – pavé according to Hank – in shades that picked up the tones in the dress. According to Hank, the jewels included yellow sapphire, golden beryl, citrine, and Baltic amber. It was striking, both as a piece of jewelry and as a religious symbol. It was a perfect gift from a minister to his wife.

The jewelry was received with as much joy as the dress, and last week, when CJ went to the salon, she took the necklace and pendant with her. When she returned several hours later, the highlights in her newly colored hair reflected the tones of the gemstones.

They reached Sacramento without incident and quickly found the Embassy Suites where the old Bartlet gang would be spending the weekend.

“Let me see,” said the desk clerk, scrolling through her computer screen. “Ah, yes, Reeves, here it is. There is one small complication. You requested a suite with one king. We’re going to have to put you in a suite with two king beds. Now that means a little less floor space in the bedroom. Naturally, there’s no extra charge. Will that be okay? If it does seem a bit crowded, we could give you a suite with two doubles.”

Paul knew he was thinking for both of them. Yes, they were in love and had, at times, made do with a double bed. However, for reasons of comfort as well as for strategic erotic reasons, the extra two feet of width afforded by a king-sized mattress were definitely required.

Fifteen minutes later, Paul was transferring champagne, cheese, and fruit from their little cooler to the refrigerator in the front room of the suite while CJ opened the suitcase they were sharing and began to put some things in drawers. Paul grabbed his toiletry kit.

“Here. Take mine in there, too,” CJ handed him her slightly larger bag of makeup, bath gels, and other personal items.

Paul had just finished brushing his teeth when CJ came into the bath. He brushed a hand over her hip as their paths crossed. He slipped into the front room and put the “Do not disturb” sign on the door; he quickly looked at the telephone instructions and programmed it to not ring but go directly to voicemail mode. A glance outside the window showed that their room overlooked the river, but he drew the drapes just the same. He turned off all the lights except one in the corner of the room farthest from the bed nearest the bathroom and turned down the covers on that bed. Then Paul stepped out of his shoes and removed his socks. Hearing the sound of the bathroom light being turned off and the door opening, Paul walked over to meet his wife.

After, when they were snuggled in post-coital comfort, he would accept her gentle scolding about taking risks. (“You could have hurt your back, which is bad not only for you but for me. I intend to dance my fanny off tonight and I need you for that. I love Christmastime.”)

But for now, he wasn’t the calm professor of theology, grey-haired and pushing sixty. For now, he was the twenty-two year old law student, strong, virile, and she was several days shy of turning nineteen. She was about to sleep in his bed for the first time, about to sleep in any man’s bed for the first time, and he was aching both with desire that had not been assuaged for several months and with a burning need to live up to the trust she was placing in him to make this experience a good one.

As she had before, CJ came willingly to his arms and after exchanging a kiss that left no doubt about what they both wanted, Paul lowered his right arm to the back of her thighs, scooped her from the floor, and carried her to the crisp sheets.

Hungry for her as he was, Paul delayed the inevitable as long as he could, treating CJ with as much care as he had that first time, ignoring the fact that five babies had emerged from her body. He watched her face as she quaked on his fingers and on his palm. He felt her hands on his head as she quaked on his tongue and his mouth. Then he watched the stars against his eyelids and he and she quaked together, him pulsing and throbbing against her warmth and wetness, her clutching and melting against his silk and steel. Finally, much sooner that he would have expected (given the fact that he was indeed soon to start the seventh decade of life), he lay back and reveled in her mouth on him, in the silk of her honeyed tresses on his groin.

Later, CJ shrieked as Paul’s champagne glass sloshed and some of the chilled effervescence spilled on her stomach. When Paul laughed and leaned down to lick the wine from her body, he spilled more of it on the bed.

“Now the bed is wet, and there are crumbs,” CJ said as she brushed at the bits of bed. Hopefully, it will dry by tonight.”

“That’s the beauty of two beds, sweetheart,” Paul said. He reached for her hands and pulled her into his arms again for another kiss. “What’s so funny?” he asked as she began to giggle.

“The housekeeping staff,” she said. “They’ll think we sleep in separate beds, that we’re old fuddy-duddies.”

“No they won’t. It’s obvious from **that** ,” Paul pointed to the large wet spot of semen mixed with her own moisture, “that we made good use of this bed, and by tomorrow morning, I intend to leave similar evidence in the other bed. Now, they might think that we’ve snuck another couple into the room and had an orgy - ”.

CJ picked up a pillow and lightly hit Paul with it. He disarmed her and, pulling her with him, he moved from a half-reclining posture to a prone one and pulled the covers over the two of them.

“Let’s get some sleep. We have a full evening ahead of us, followed by an equally full night.”

**10:30 PM PST; Christmas Ball of Gov. Sam Seaborn**

Paul sipped at his cognac and watched as CJ danced with Jed Bartlet. The former president led her through the foxtrot with relative ease, apparently used to dancing with women who were taller than he was.

Paul’s eyes connected with CJ’s and the two of them exchanged smiles. Once again, Paul felt the tightening in his groin that belied the fact that he was a grandfather, having proven the fact earlier at the banquet table when he shared the photos received from Tom and Deborah not only with their dinner companions – Josh, Donna, Ginger, Rick, Margaret, and John Hoynes – but with anyone else who came within four feet.

As usual, all the women looked striking and as usual, Paul felt that CJ was the most striking of the lot. The others admired her gown and, when told that it had been an anniversary present, cast appreciative glances and comments at Paul.

When the dancing began after the meal, Paul willingly agreed when one of the other men suggested that they switch partners. However, he did not actively seek to dance with the other women; he preferred to spend as much time as possible on the dance floor with CJ in his arms. Of course, if an unattached woman had been part of their group, Paul would have made sure that she was not neglected, just as the women were ensuring that Jed Bartlet had many chances to show off his moves.

“Hey, Paul.”

Josh, beer in hand, sat down at the table.

“Hi, Josh. Where’s Donna?”

“Morgan needed to go to the ladies’ room. Maybe someday I’ll figure out why they have to go in pairs.”

“Maybe,” Paul theorized, “but I wouldn’t count on it. If Morgan’s with Donna, where’s Sam?”

“Over there, playing governor,” Josh pointed with his beer, “talking to some business guys. I needed to talk with you.

“CJ reamed me up one side and down the other about what you overheard last May. I need to apologize - ”

“No need,” Paul interrupted. “Josh, I can honestly say that I really didn’t know. Well, I guess I knew because, thinking back, I did hear her talking about when she had worn the dresses before, but I didn’t put two and two together. If I’m not being out of line, I was a bit surprised that you had noticed. I never figured you for the type of guy that pays attention to that sort of thing.”

“Well, as I said, for the next two years, Donna made sure I knew whenever CJ wore something new. Then she stopped. I wouldn’t have noticed that either, except that Sherri Wexler was covering that Hollis thing in May – CJ gave her a smackdown in the Press Room about fifteen years ago – and she made some comment about how low CJ had fallen, wearing an old dress, and I asked Donna about it.”

Josh paused, took a sip from his beer.

“The thing is, Paul, those last few months, Danny and I spent time together, just as he did with you. He told me of his hopes that you and CJ would marry, that you would take care of her and the kids, that you were perfect for her, and she for you. But he also asked me to look out for her and the kids, in case the two of you didn’t come together, and even if you did, to make sure that his ‘Celtic ESP’, as he called it, wasn’t mistaken about you. Now, after all this time, I know he wasn’t mistaken, but I still feel a sense of duty, as it were. I had heard that Berkeley was cutting back and I’m sure that you guys are also under the gun - ”, Josh stopped in mid-sentence, not knowing how much further to take all of this.

_**Cassiopeia’s Chair** _

“ _You really did that?” Alicia asked, the disbelief taking her voice up half an octave. “You really thought that Paul could possibly have been less than wonderful as a husband, as a man? You honestly questioned his integrity? I swear, Danny, I thought I knew you, but now -”._

“ _Come on, Lish, I was dying, I was worried. I was as sure as I could be, but one never knows, for sure,” Danny pleaded. “And, after all, he thought I was possibly capable of abusing her, the weekend we found out about the Nobel. What about_ _ **his**_ _suspicions about_ _ **me**_ _?” At first, Danny felt defensive, but, remembering that conversation the weekend that CJ was roughed up when she got lost off the freeway, he ended up feeling just a bit self-righteous._

“ _I don’t know,” Alicia said, hesitation in her voice._

_Danny saw his chance. He smiled the smile that conveyed a deceptive sense of self-deprecation._

“ _Well, Paul and I are mere men, full of faults. I don’t know what we ever did to deserve you, to deserve her.”_

_Alicia knew what he was doing, but in spite of it, she couldn’t stay mad long. Besides, she felt the urge to dance in a circle and one couldn’t do that and fight at the same time._

“We’re fine. And if we weren’t, well, I’m getting better at accepting the fact that CJ does have a healthy mid-six figure trust fund from Danny that earns a steady seven percent interest. We don’t use it for day-to-day things, but we have used it for a few things, something that the ‘me’ of five years ago would never have imagined myself doing. Part of me is upset with myself because I let my ego get the better or me in this situation, but the other part of me is damned proud of how good my wife looks in her gold dress. So maybe this Sherri person is right, that CJ has changed about her clothes, but I’ve changed too,” Paul concluded. Then he stood as CJ and Jed Bartlet approached from the dance floor at the same time that Donna and Morgan came to the table from the rest room area. “And now, if she’s not too worn out, I’d like to dance with my beautiful wife.”

Once on the dance floor, Paul was intoxicated by the woman in his arms. Morgan’s staff had chosen a “Winter Wonderland” theme and everything was decorated in silver and white. CJ stood out against the iciness, glowing in the half-light. Her golden dress and jewelry were set off by the highlights in her hair. While dressing for the party, CJ had shooed him out of the room when Carol appeared at the door and apparently the two of them had dusted each other’s upper torsos with a shimmery golden powder.

The couple moved in cadence with the medley of romantic love songs. Paul somehow managed to resist the urge to kiss a line from CJ’s jaw to her neck to her shoulder. He was about to suggest that rather than wait for the bus that would take the group back to the hotel, they catch a cab, when Donna came up to them.

“The President wants pictures.”

And so, for the next forty minutes, a photographer took pictures of each couple, a picture of the group, and then a picture of the women.

Paul was standing next to Jed Bartlet while the photographer was posing the women. They were grouped in front of a stand of trees. CJ in gold, Morgan in Kelly green, Carol in her bright red, Andy in white, Margaret in royal blue, and Donna in silver were standing in the back row. Seated in front were Ginger in turquoise, Bonnie in rose, Ainsley in yellow, radiantly six months pregnant, Nancy in black, also radiant and for the same reason (but only three months, she and Jesse had told the group earlier in the evening), Ellie in deep forest green, and Zoey in purple.

“They look like ornaments, against those trees,” Paul commented. “I guess they coordinated, made sure they weren’t duplicating colors. Women are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“My third year in office, I had a big formal party for Abbey’s birthday, I made some comment about a ‘Women of the West Wing’ calendar,” Jed mused. “That’s why I wanted the pictures. I want a calendar of these women. I’ll get one of Liz. I hope she’s having a good time in Gstaad with Gus and his fiancée.”

The photographer took one last shot and released the women just as the orchestra started another set. CJ looked at the dance floor and then at her husband. Paul sighed and smiled as CJ took his hand and led him toward the music. If she’s happy, I’m happy, he said to himself.

**December 9; 10:15 PM; Embassy Suites (the presidential suite)**

Paul shifted slightly in his chair, surreptitiously moving CJ’s butt a half inch to accommodate the throbbing in his groin. Then he shifted his arms up about five inches from CJ’s waist to feel the soft weight of her breasts on his forearms.

With this year’s ball being held on a Friday, Morgan had arranged for a group trip to the gold country around Placerville for the gang. After a bus tour of the region and a box lunch, they had fun afternoon panning in one of the streams in the area. There was a late afternoon buffet dinner in one of the historic hotels and then everyone had agreed to gather in Sam and Morgan’s rooms for informal drink and discourse after time for a “break”. To Paul’s eye, most of the couples must have spent the time as he and CJ did, and most of the women decided to put on sweatshirts without benefit of supportive undergarments.

Ginger, CJ, Bonnie, and Andy were talking about holiday guests.

“Yes, we’ll have a full house for Christmas itself, with Rick’s sister Serena and her kids, and of course Aunt Melanie and Aunt Hallie. We’ll have an anniversary party, ten years, can you believe it, on the 29th. Then, on the 30th, Ellen, a friend of Sev’s from school is coming in for the New Years’ dance.”

“Is this a serious girlfriend, Ginger?” Andy asked. “I think Molly has a little crush on Sev after going to the dance with him last summer. We’ll be doing Chanukah next week, of course, and then down to Maryland for Christmas. What about you guys, CJ? Are both Deborah and Derrick joining you this year?”

“Well, Deborah just gave birth, remember, by the way, have we shown you pictures of our grandson?” CJ said to the general laughter that greeted that sardonic question, “so they can’t travel all that distance, changing planes, with a newborn. I remember flying with Paddy in the Hollis jet, and even that was a chore. But Derrick will be with us, of course, and he’s bringing Natasha, so we’ll be pretty full ourselves. I’m glad we decided to build the guest addition; it will be very handy.”

“There’s a pool at the foundation offices about when the ring is going to show up on Natasha’s finger,” Bonnie said. “You willing to give me any inside hints?”

“I have no hints to give,” CJ said. “If it happens, it will be in God’s own time.”

Paul nodded his head in agreement. Of course, he knew that if Derrick had his way, the ring would have been in evidence for almost a year now, or at least since late August. (“That’s what I told her brother-in-law and her uncle, Dad”, his son told him when they talked right after Derrick and Natasha had returned from their Thanksgiving trip to Arizona. “I took the initiative, told them that my intentions were honorable, as it were. I told them that I had already told her I wanted to marry her, but I knew that I had to wait until it felt right for her. Maybe someday, she’ll be able to let down her guard and allow me to take the initiative, but until that happens, she’s the decision maker as far as when to move this relationship along.”)

“Let it go, Joshua! If he’s not ready, he’s not ready. And four years in the Senate would only help, on top of nine as governor.”

Paul started at Donna’s raised voice. Apparently Josh was still trying to get Sam to declare for the presidential primary season that would start after Christmas and Sam was still not having any part of it.

“I just want to get the best guy for the job. Although God knows I could go outside and grab the first natural born thirty-five year old citizen and get someone better than Haffley,” Josh defended himself. Then, looking over and Ainsley and Glenn Walken, added, “sorry.”

“Hey, we didn’t vote for the guy, didn’t campaign for him, don’t intend to campaign for him”, Ainsley said.

“We have much more important things to do this year,” Glenn added as he absent-mindedly stroked the child growing inside his wife. Paul smiled, remembering how the former president (if only for a few days) told the other men how much in awe he was of the life that he and Ainsley had created. (“Ten years ago, I never saw this for me. I assumed I would die an unmarried man, with only a couple of great-nephews to remember me. And now, this delicate little creature is carrying an even more delicate, even littler creature and I’m responsible for both of them.”)

“Yes, please, Josh, let it go, or I will take my wife and go,” Jean-Luc added.

“Don’t you mean **Paul’s** wife, at least according to one waitress?” Bonnie asked with a laugh.

“Come on, the poor girl was so flustered, assuming that Bonnie and I were a couple, and the manager was embarrassed enough to comp the liquor,” Paul said, smoothing over the issue in much the same way he had done at dinner when it happened. It had been obvious to him, with the sense he had developed over the years, that the young woman had meant no slight, and he tried his hardest to put her at ease. “And no disrespect to you, Bonnie, but I think I will leave with the woman I came in with.”

“And I don’t have anything to say about that?” CJ asked.

“Not unless you want coal in your stocking, sweetheart,” came Paul’s answer.

“That might work on the kids, but I’m onto you, Paul Reeves.”

“You threaten your kids with Santa?” Zoey asked. “Isn’t that kind of mean?”

“Not me,” said Paul. “It’s Paddy. Especially Dansha, it’s her first year actually remembering everything from last Christmas, how wonderful everything is at this time of year. However, when they asked me if it was true that Santa might not bring presents, I told them that gifts are always a privilege and not something to which one is entitled. And that Santa likes people who are nice to other people. Excuse me, sweetheart,” he added, gently lifting her from his lap and heading toward the bathroom.

“Well, they are right about it being a wonderful time of the year,” Charlie said. “I especially remember that first Christmas after I started working at the White House.”

“Well, I can’t wait for this little lump to be old enough to enjoy it,” Ainsley said. Then she smiled up at Glenn, who was still absent-mindedly caressing her distended middle.

“Well, if I can’t talk Sam into running, maybe I can talk my wife into something else,” Josh said. He stood up and reached a hand to Donna and helped her to her feet. “And we do have an 11:00 AM flight tomorrow,” he added as Donna blushed and took a playful slap at her husband.

And with that, the others decided that they too needed, or wanted to, retire. The group agreed to meet at 8:30 for breakfast.

When CJ and Paul reached their suite, she slipped into the bathroom. When she came out, wearing an ivory lace nightgown, Paul was in bed, nude.

“Now why did you bother with that?” Paul asked with a smile.

“It comes off, Paul. They always come off.” CJ came up to stand beside the bed. “Sometimes, I want you to remove it. Sometimes I want to undress for you.”

“Come, sweetheart.” Paul held out his hand. Then, as CJ moved to lie beside him, “No, ride me tonight, sweetheart.”

And as she straddled his groin, he reached for the hem of the negligee and lifted it from her body.

Later, CJ lay collapsed against him, softly snoring as he stroked her hair. She woke with a start and, raising herself on an elbow, she looked down into his eyes.

“Twice after the ball, twice this morning, once after supper, and now this. Not bad, **Grandpa** ,” she teased him.

Paul quickly flipped her to her back and lowered her hand to his expanding hardness.

“I’m not done yet. See how hard you can make me, see how hard I am again for you,” he spoke with ragged breath. “See how much I want you again,” he thrust himself hard and deep inside her, “ **Nana**?”

**December 19; Kensington, CA; 2:00 PM PST**

“Derrick, lunch is ready. Would you get the kids?”

“Will do, honey.” Derrick Reeves put down the brief he was studying and got up from the kitchen table. He smiled at Natasha. “You look cute with that apron.”

“Too much Donna Reed?”

“Much younger. Clair Huxtable,” Derrick replied.

“Did she wear aprons?”

It was like playing house, only they were grownups, Derrick thought as he went in search of Paddy, Caitlin, and Dansha.

Last week, when talking with his father, Derrick heard about the gala evening that the Theological Union was sponsoring for the Christmas holiday. Lunch at one of the restaurants at Fisherman’s’ Wharf, followed by an afternoon performance of _Aida_ at the Opera House. The climax would be a formal dinner-dance at the Mark Hopkins. Many of the participants would be spending the night at the hotel. (“But we’ll be coming back after the dance; Brittany just turned 14; she’s much too young to spend the night alone with the kids.”)

“Nonsense,” Derrick told his father. “Natasha and I can easily come up a day earlier.”

“You had plans, Derrick.”

“Yes, we were planning to spend a night in Monterey on the way up, but we can change that. You and CJ stay overnight, so you can enjoy the dance, enjoy the alcohol.”

“We had the weekend in Sacramento.”

“It’s Christmas, you can have another night to yourselves.”

So he and Natasha had arrived yesterday evening and would be spending the next nine days in Kensington. Derrick loved spending Christmas with his father, CJ, and the blended family. He was looking forward to watching Christmas specials with the kids, the same ones he and Deborah had watched as children. He was looking forward to the two services on Christmas Eve and to setting up the tree and the packages after the kids went to bed. He was looking forward to drinking cocoa and eating cinnamon toast on his parents’ bed with the others. He was looking forward to Caitlin and Dansha’s delight when they saw the tree and the presents for the first time. He was looking forward to helping Paddy, who had finally figured out “the truth”, keep the secret for the girls, helping the boy realize that it was an important trust to keep the dream alive, to help Paddy realize that Santa was indeed “real”, just in a different way. _(“Of course, I’m real!” Nicholas exploded. He was testing the inventory control program that would determine when, where and with what to refill his sleigh on the big night.)_ Derrick was looking forward to the special surprise he had arranged for his father.

The only thing he was not looking forward to was the ten days of sexual abstinence. However, he had done it for over a year waiting first to find Natasha and then for her to be ready for intimacy; these next few days should be a piece of cake.

Paddy was outside with Jasmine and came running into the house when told that tomato soup and tuna melts were ready to be eaten. Hearing giggles coming from the bedroom wing, Derrick headed to the girls’ room.

Caitlin was wearing a pair of black silk heels that Derrick knew only too well and a white silk blouse that came down past her knees and whose shoulders fell to the redhead’s elbows. Dansha sported what would have been a purple mini-dress on Natasha but trailed on the floor when worn by the not quite three year old. Both girls had smears of brown and green around their eyes and bright tawny circles on their cheeks. In the makeup containers spread out on the bed, there were smears of black in the blusher and the eye shadow; the brush bristles were spread out in five different directions.

“Look pretty!” Dansha shouted.

Derrick called to Natasha, asking her to come back to the room. Then he explained to his little sisters that they should not use another person’s things without permission, and even if they had permission, they should not destroy those things.

“You’ve ruined Tasha’s makeup. And it’s a miracle that you haven’t ruined her clothes. You’ve done something very bad.”

Actually, Natasha wasn’t nearly as upset as Derrick was. She thought the girls looked cute and wanted to take a picture of them. She pulled out her phone and snapped just as Paddy, who had come back to the bedroom out of curiosity, mentioned something about making Santa mad.

“Please no tell Santa. Want gift!” Dansha wailed.

“I don’t have to tell Santa,” Derrick said. “He knows already; he knows everything. So he’ll know if you tell Natasha you’re sorry and that you’ll never do it again.”

Caitlin had a more immediate concern. “Are you going to tell Papa and Mama, Derrick?”

“No,” Derrick answered, and Caitlin looked relieved. “But **you** are, tomorrow when they get back.” Caitlin’s face grew very worried. Then the big brother replaced the father-substitute. “And remember, tell them the truth. Never, ever, tell them a lie.” Paddy nodded in agreement.

“But they’ll get mad, and yell,” Caitlin wailed.

“Papa doesn’t get mad and yell,” Paddy said. “He just has serious discussions.”

“But Mama does,” Caitlin answered. “And Papa makes us do rep-rations.”

“You should have thought of that beforehand,” Derrick said. “Now let’s take off Tasha’s things.” When that was done, he told Paddy to go with the girls to the bathroom and help them wash their faces while he and Natasha reheated the soup and sandwiches.

“I really don’t want to get them into trouble, Derrick,” Natasha said as she dumped soup into the sauce pan and turned up the gas under it.

“They got themselves into trouble, Tash. And my father doesn’t tolerate lying from any of his children, no matter how old. I couldn’t keep this from him.”

“Will he spa-”

“Only if they lie about it, and maybe not even then,” Derrick hastened to assure her. “Dansha is really too young to understand the consequences, and I don’t think he would spank Caitlin if he didn’t Dansha. But that’s why I need to make sure that both of them understand they have to tell the truth.”

**10:30 PM**

Derrick checked the lock on the front door, then headed toward the bedrooms, turning off lights as he walked.

For a moment, he pretended to himself that he was in his own house, that the children were his and Natasha’s, that he and Natasha were married. Well, it was always something to look forward to in the future.

Derrick opened the door to the girls’ room. Caitlin and Dansha were curled up in one of the beds, their feet at opposite ends. When Natasha had found out that the tree was usually set up in the living room, she insisted on sleeping in with the girls rather than upsetting tradition. She could sleep on the floor, she insisted, but the girls said she could use one of their beds.

Derrick turned to the other bed. Natasha was lying there, looking very sexy in spite of her modest ASU sleep shirt. (Derrick had already bought her one from Oberlin; it was wrapped and ready to be opened Christmas morning.) She smiled up at him as he sat beside her.

“I’m going to miss you tonight,” Natasha whispered.

“Well, I can take care of you again,” Derrick whispered in return, sliding his hand under the covers and up her leg.

Earlier, after the kids had gone to bed, the two of them sat in the living room and Derrick insisted on undoing her jeans and slipping his hand inside her underwear. She had never done this as a teenager, he told her. He wanted to everything he could to make up for what had been done to her in her childhood, to give her what she had missed because of the rape and abuse. “And one of those things was being taken to third base in your boyfriend’s living room when his parents weren’t home.”

After she had climaxed twice, Natasha reached for his zipper but he stopped her hand.

“You took care of me, let me take care of you,” she protested.

“I don’t want the scent in the air. I can wait.”

So they sat in the living room and watched the lights of the city twinkle in the clear December night.

Now, in his sisters’ bedroom, Natasha stopped **his** hand.

“I won’t be able to control myself, control my voice,” she whispered. “I can wait, too.”

“You were great with the kids today,” Derrick changed the subject. “You’re a natural at this.”

“I enjoy them. It’s such a great age; watching them enjoy Christmas brings back so many memories of my own childhood. I envy your parents. I think they’re having more fun than the kids are.”

Derrick was consumed with desire for her. It could be done. They were still using condoms, which would contain his ejaculate, and he could get a towel to protect the sheets from any leakage. There was always air freshener. He remembered, thinking back to his own childhood, of the times that they spent in hotel rooms, of waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of movement in the next bed, the sound of labored breathing, the sound of muted cries. The twin bed was narrow, but it would be easy to get into it behind her, to lift her shirt, to slip inside her and carefully complete the act.

Someday, they would do it with their own children when circumstances dictated. For now, he would not do it with his father’s new ones. Rather, he turned Natasha’s face so he could look directly into his eyes.

“This could be us in a few years; you and me with our children. We would start working on having all this on our wedding night. Are you ready to tell me, Tasha? Are you ready to marry me?”

“Derrick -”

Caitlin’s terrified scream wiped out whatever Natasha was going to say. Derrick went over to the other bed and, gathering the little girl in his arms, gently woke her.

“What’s the matter, red?” Derrick asked, using his nickname for her. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yes. Lots of wolves.”

“Well, there are no wolves here, just Jasmine.” The dog appeared at the door, then came up to the bed. “It was just a dream.”

“Scary. Cold.” Caitlin shivered in Derrick’s arms.

Derrick looked down. There was a light quilt on the bed where she was sleeping.

But Caitlin always wanted extra covers. For some reason, she was never warm enough without at least two covers, and often wanted three. Derrick reached for another blanket and, still keeping Caitlin in his arms, wrapped it around her and held her until she stopped shivering and fell asleep. Derrick put her on the mattress and made sure she was well covered. Jasmine bumped at Derrick with her head until he stood up; the black lab jumped up on the bed and settled herself around Caitlin’s back.

Derrick and Natasha both knew that the moment was gone, at least for now.

“Sleep safe, Tasha. I love you.”

“Good night, Derrick. Ditto.”

**December 20; mid-afternoon**

Paul hit the “save” key. His third draft of his Christmas Eve sermon was done. He would let it sit for a day, and review. Then he would ask CJ to read it, and consider her suggestions. Finally, he would read it aloud, taping and listening.

Paul looked up at the knock on the door. It was Natasha; she, CJ, and the girls must have returned from their trip to the mall to replace the makeup that was ruined yesterday.

When he and CJ had returned late this morning, Caitlin and Dansha told the two of them what happened yesterday afternoon. After a serious discussion about respecting the property of others, he told the girls to get their piggybanks.

“We don’t have much money, Papa. We bought Christmas presents already,” Caitlin reminded him.

“Then we’ll just have to keep track of what you will owe,” Paul told his daughters. “You do get an allowance every week.”

“Forever?” Caitlin asked with a gulp.

Paul laughed. “No, not forever, Kitty-Caitlin. Just until you’ve paid for the makeup.”

“What about punitive?” Caitlin asked. She knew the rules, knew the ropes.

“We don’t have debtors’ prisons in this country.”

“Hunh?”

“In this case, no punitive damages, just compensatory,” Paul explained.

Hugs were exchanged and the four women headed off to get the replacements.

“Come in, Natasha. I trust the trip was successful?”

“It was. But it really wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes, it was,” Paul said firmly, and Natasha understood that the subject was closed. She also understood why even in his late twenties, Derrick respected his father’s authority. Something about the man commanded that deference.

Changing the subject, Paul’s father asked how he might be of assistance to her.

When Natasha told him of Derrick’s proposal, of her desire to tell Derrick yes, and of her need for Paul’s approval before doing so, Paul broke out in a smile that reflected itself in his eyes, in the rest of his body, as well as on his mouth.

“Of course, you have my permission and my blessing, child. You know, Derrick told me the night you met that he had found his wife, and I knew he was telling me the truth. Are you going to tell him now?”

“I’m not sure. I think I should, I mean, I’ve kept him waiting for four months. But I also thought about letting him know Christmas morning. I would write it on a piece of paper, something like ‘Ask me again’ or just ‘Yes’, and wrap it up like a present. Or maybe buy some costume ring and put it in the box with a note to give it to me. Too corny?”

When Paul asked her to consider humoring an old man, she prettily told him that he would never be an old man, but she was open to suggestions.

”Natasha, when my wife was dying, she asked me to save her wedding set for Derrick, to offer to his bride when he was ready to get married. Then, when I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with CJ, I took off my wedding ring and stored it with Alicia’s diamonds. Would you consider wearing her rings? Or having the stones reset in something you like if the style doesn’t suit you? And to have Derrick wear the ring Alicia gave me? Unless Derrick already has something ready and waiting for you?”

“I would love to wear Derrick’s mother’s rings. And, I’m sure he doesn’t have anything for me. He said that everything was always up to me and that when I did say ‘Yes’ we would pick out something together.”

“What if I hand the rings to Derrick Christmas morning, and tell him that you had asked me for permission to marry him? Would that work?”

“Yes, it’s perfect!”

“Great. I’ll go get the rings from the bank tomorrow. Listen, how would you like to come with me? We could go into the city and have lunch and you can help me buy something for CJ. It’s something I used to do with Deborah, first for Alicia and then for CJ, until she married Tom and moved to Alaska. Caitlin’s still a bit too young, and I’ve missed taking a daughter to lunch during Christmas break.”

_**Capricorn** _

“ _We’ll be junior bridesmaids!” Leslie and Danielle cried out._

“ _I need to do something different with my hair,” Danielle said._

“ _Let’s go ask Rapunzel; she always has good ideas about hair.”_

_The two girls ran off in the general direction of Betelgeuse._

“ _I’m going to be mother of the groom!” Alicia exclaimed._

“ _Like I was in August,” Brianna said, exchanging hugs with Alicia. Then she looked over at Reginald Montmorency. “Ye’ll be so handsome in your RAF dress uniform, walking down the aisle wi’ Natasha.”_

“ _I still say there’s nothing like a kilt to make a man look really handsome and macho, but those medals will make quite an impression,” Hugh whispered to Danny. “I’m glad I was able to be there for my girls. Of course, I wanted to be there for Brian, too, but there’s something special about daughters. Just you wait until Caitlin grows up; you’ll see.”_

**December 21; 8:30 AM PST**

“Tasha, I was thinking we’d go over to Sausalito today,” Derrick said as he refilled his coffee cup. “Some friends from Oberlin live there, they just had a baby, and I’d like to see them, like them to meet you.”

“Actually, I have a much better offer. I have an assignation with a married man. He’s going to take me to lunch in the city, the Palace Hotel, and then we’re going shopping.”

CJ caught the look that passed between father and son and smiled. By inviting Natasha to take part in this particular ritual, Paul was letting Derrick know how much he approved of the young woman, how ready Paul was to accept Natasha into their lives forever. Derrick mouthed “Thank you” to his father. “It’s my pleasure” was the silent reply.

“Well, Derrick,” CJ said, “the cards have already been mailed, so would you like to make cookies with a cougar?”

Later that day, Paul and Natasha followed the _maître d’_ to their table in the Garden Court restaurant. They had just ordered drinks when Paul heard his name being called. He looked up to see Meredith Howell, one of the senior partners at Derrick’s old firm. He stood and exchanged greetings with the woman and, noticing the looks at his dining partner, a woman young enough to be his daughter but obviously not the Deborah that Meredith had met several years ago, Paul introduced Natasha as “a special friend of Derrick’s who is spending Christmas with us. She volunteered to help me shop for CJ.”

After the lawyer left, the two of them laughed about the assumption that Paul was keeping a mistress. Over their entrées, Natasha once again assured Paul that Alicia’s rings, now sitting in Paul’s inside breast pocket, were perfect and that there would be no reason to have the stones reset for her.

When they were finished eating, they first went to Macy’s and then Neiman-Marcus, where they settled on a fire opal bracelet for CJ. With that errand done, they headed to the lingerie shop, where there were two packages waiting for Paul.

Arriving back in Kensington at 5:30, they saw an empty pizza box in the kitchen. There were also about six dozen decorated Christmas cookies sitting on the dining room table.

**December 25; 10:15 PM PST**

Paul checked the lock on the front door and then went into the living room to turn off the lights to the Christmas tree.

It had been a fantastic Christmas, the high point, so far, of a wonderful Christmas season. Yesterday evening, he had preached one of the best sermons of his life. His wife and children, except for Deborah, Tom, and his infant grandson, were in the first pew, and he had proudly presented them to the congregation, introducing Natasha as “a very special friend of Derrick”. After the service, they socialized with the worshippers as they left. Then the Reeves family made its way to Mary Mag, where Paddy was one of Greg Watson’s altar servers for Midnight Mass.

Caitlin and Dansha were asleep before the family got home, so Natasha helped CJ to get them into their pajamas and into bed while Paul and Derrick got the tree from the garage and into the stand. Finally, by three o’clock, the tree was decorated and all the presents set around its base. This year, there were no doll houses or bikes to assemble, and anything requiring a battery had been fitted several days ago, so the task was relatively easy. The stockings hung on the mantle were filled with candy, nuts, fruit, and silly little things. Finally, the powdery footsteps were placed in both directions between the fireplace and the tree, the cookies partially eaten and the milk partially drunk. The four adults went to bed, Natasha and Derrick to their separate beds in separate rooms, Paul and CJ to a brief, gentle act of love before catching a few hours’ rest.

Paddy knew “the truth”, but he was still excited and anxious to see what his parents had bought for him, so he woke Derrick at 7:15. The two of them made the cinnamon toast and cocoa before getting the girls and Natasha. Caitlin and Dansha were awake, but had been told by Paddy and Derrick that they had to stay in bed until the boys came to get them. Santa had their house at the end of his route, the girls were told; he could change his mind about presents at the very last minute.

Soon after the early breakfast had been consumed, Paddy snuck out of the master bedroom to shake the bells that indicated that Santa was leaving the roof and the little girls ran to the living room with everyone else in tow.

Paddy smiled at his parents as his sisters exclaimed in delight, glad to be included as a “big person”. Then the eight year old in him took over and he began to tear into the pile of things that were obviously for him.

After the kids opened their gifts, the adults took turns opening their presents, ending with Paul’s announcement about what had occurred between Natasha and him five days ago, followed by Derrick slipping his mother’s engagement ring on Natasha’s hand.

Paul went to the kitchen and checked the door to the garage. He looked out the window to the back of Lee and Dottie Hotchkiss’ house, to the camping trailer where Derrick and Paddy were sleeping. It was part of the wonderful surprise that Derrick had arranged, bringing Deborah, Tom, and little Joe from Canada. The Jefferson’s were sleeping in Derrick and Paddy’s room rather than at the Durant. Paul’s eyes misted again as he remembered holding the baby for the first time, wishing that Alicia could have been there with him.

“ _I was.”_

In three days, Tom and Deborah and the baby would leave for the East Coast and a couple of days with Tom’s family. Derrick and Natasha would head south, with a gift card for two nights at a resort in Carmel and the second box Paul was given at the lingerie shop. On the 20th, after Natasha had spoken to him, Paul had called the shop and asked the owner to pick out something for Natasha and for Derrick. The only stipulation Paul had was that the garments not be red; that would wait for their wedding next August.

Paul stopped in the family room and poured two little glasses of Ash’s cordial, He peeked into the girls’ room; his two littlest girls and his daughter-to-be were sound asleep. Caitlin was adequately covered in her two blankets. Deborah and his grandson he entrusted to Tom; there was no need to check the other bedroom.

Finally, Paul entered the master bedroom. CJ was standing by the fireplace, wearing the black negligee he had bought her for Christmas. This year, CJ had bought little trees for each of the bedrooms and she was glowing in the colored lights. A featherbed was on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Paul set down the glasses and stripped to his silk boxers. Handing one of the glasses to CJ, the two of them toasted each other.

“Our fifth Christmas together, sweetheart. And every one of them more wonderful than the last.” Paul reached over and kissed CJ’s mouth.

“A grandchild and a new daughter. Certainly more than the usual gifts. Our whole family together, even if not under one roof,” CJ laughed and kissed Paul’s shoulder. “But next year, God willing.”

“Maybe,” Paul answered, kissing the top of her head. “But Tom may be on duty, or he and Deborah may not want to travel. Or if they do come down to the lower forty-eight, go see George and Louise first. The same for Derrick and Natasha; he’ll be part of her family just as she’ll be part of ours. I’m just grateful we have everyone together now, and will be grateful when it happens again, whether it’s Christmas, or whenever.”

CJ took the glass from Paul and set both pieces of crystal on the floor. She sunk to the featherbed and pulled Paul beside her. “As long as I have you.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Thank you for being so wonderful to me,” Paul told his wife.

CJ opened her arms and her legs. Encircling her husband with love and limb, she quickly rubbed him to engorgement and sighed with satisfaction as Paul buried himself in her wet readiness.

“A special Christmas; the most wonderful time of the year. But every time of the year is wonderful with you, Paul. Love me, and let me love you.” 


End file.
